


Something New

by hapakitsune



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Children, Future Fic, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5009959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis didn't mean to sleep with Niall at Liam's wedding. He did mean to run away from it, only once he did, it wasn't as easy to forget about it as he had hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [temerity (forsanethaec)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsanethaec/gifts).



> do you ever sit down to write something, look up, and realize you've written about 10k more than you meant to? I HAVE. 
> 
> anyway, dedicated to temerity who I blame for all of this anyway.

Liam looked as though he might vomit. Harry was staying well back, looking slightly anxious as he fiddled with his cufflinks. Niall patted Liam’s back and looked at Louis plaintively. _Say something_ , he mouthed. 

“Payno,” Louis said loudly. Liam’s head jerked up, eyes searching out Louis’s face. “Look at me. You’re going to be fucking brilliant, okay? You’re going to marry Sophia and then you’re going to get off your face and have wild sex for an entire month. You just have to get out there and actually marry her.”

Andy poked his head in and said, “Liam, dude, people are starting to get restless. Is this happening or what?”

“Okay,” Liam said. He tried to smile, looked instead like he felt mildly constipated, and straightened his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

Liam continued to look on edge right until Sophia appeared in the doorway to the church, looking breathtaking and blissfully happy. Then he melted into a dopey smile, and Louis finally relaxed, no longer worried he’d have to figure out a distraction while Liam bolted for the toilet. 

The ceremony was absolutely lovely. Of course it was lovely; it was perfect, really, and the reception was gorgeous too. Liam and Sophia were beaming wide enough to light up the entire ballroom all on their own, and Karen was crying, of course. Louis gave his best man speech, managed to refrain from utterly humiliating Liam and instead embarrassed himself with his sincerity before he grabbed Liam in a hug and pinched his nipple through his shirt. He had to keep some of his cred intact, after all. 

He danced with Karen, and Liam’s sisters, and he took his mum out on the floor too before making the rounds to say hello to the roughly five hundred—okay, maybe more like two hundred, but it was still an awful lot of people—Liam and Sophia had invited. Zayn was sitting in the back with his new girlfriend, an American with violently green hair and a kind laugh. Liam had fretted for ages about whether to invite him at all, still unsure if Zayn would want to be there. Eventually he had compromised by inviting him to the wedding, but not to the stag do. Louis, for his part, had been of the opinion that if Zayn wanted to be at the wedding, he’d damn well reach out and say so. But that wasn’t how things were done, apparently. 

Still, it seemed the thing to say hello, so he did, shook the hand of Zayn’s girlfriend, and made idle chitchat about the weather and the food. When Louis thought he could excuse himself without being rude, he went to find Harry and Niall, who were flirting outrageously with the bridesmaids as well as Sophia’s mother. 

“Shots,” Louis announced. “It’s time.” Harry grinned up at him and let Louis drag him to the open bar, but before long he was gone, out on the dance floor. Niall, who had declined the tequila Louis tried to press on him in favour of whiskey, laughed low under his breath. 

“The graceless wonder,” he said. 

“Yeah.” Louis smacked his lips and straightened up. “I need a smoke, you want?”

“No thanks.” Niall clapped him on the shoulder as Louis headed out. “Don’t be too long, all right?”

It might have been summer, but it was still cooler outside than in the overheated ballroom. Louis loosened his collar and slouched against the wall and lit a cigarette, exhaling up toward the sky. It was a beautiful night, as though the heavens had cleared especially for the new Mr and Mrs Payne. He could probably see some constellations, if he knew any. 

He knew he should be happy; and he was, he was thrilled for Liam, who deserved every bit of this. But there was that restless part of him that knew it was the end of something. It was the latest in a series of endings; first Zayn, then the band, then Harry moving out to Los Angeles more or less permanently, then Liam getting married. Who did Louis have left, then, if not them?

Fuck, he was getting morbid. He tried blowing a smoke ring. He didn’t get very far. 

“Hey.” Louis turned and saw Zayn standing tentatively at the doorway from the ballroom. 

“Hi,” Louis said shortly. He ground his cigarette out against the wall behind him and took out another one. “You want a cig?”

“Thanks.” Zayn accepted a cigarette and a light. He had a new tattoo on his neck, right along the back of his hairline, peeking out over the collar of his dress shirt. “Liam looks proper chuffed, doesn’t he?”

“Suppose,” Louis said. “Kind of thought you’d be the first one to get married, you know.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “Are we doing this, then?”

Louis considered it. Part of him was spoiling for a fight, he could feel it building up, but just imagining the look on Liam’s face was enough to stop him. “No,” he said. “Guess not.”

“Good.” Zayn exhaled deeply and didn’t say he was sorry, not that Louis was expecting that anymore. He just – sometimes he wanted an acknowledgement from Zayn that he had changed things irreversibly for all of them. That was all. 

“Ceremony was nice,” Louis said after a while. “Your girlfriend seems like a good girl. How long have you been dating?”

“About six months.” Zayn flicked ash off his cigarette. “She was proper nervous to meet all of you.” 

“What did you tell her about us?” Louis asked. “Did you frighten her?”

“Fuck off.” Zayn narrowed his eyes at Louis. “We were friends once, Louis. Remember that?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. “Do you?”

Zayn threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe. “Whatever.” He pushed himself upright and started to go back inside. He paused at the doorway, not quite looking at Louis. “Your speech was nice. I’m glad Liam – I mean. Never mind.” 

“What?” Louis asked, turning and putting his hands on his hips. “What is it?”

“Fuck, I’m just trying to say you did good, okay?” Zayn said. “Not everything has to be a fucking argument, Louis.”

“Seems like it does,” Louis said. 

“Because you pick a fight with me every time we see each other!” Zayn ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I didn’t want to do this. I thought we could be friends again. It’s been four years.”

“You killed us,” Louis said. “We were the best thing that ever happened to us – to _you_ – and you killed us.”

“I know,” Zayn said quietly. He slumped forward. “I know.”

“Well,” Louis said. “As long as you know.” He looked at the cigarette in his hand, burning down to the end. “Now fuck off. I don’t really want to row. It’s Liam’s wedding.”

“Yeah.” Zayn lingered for a moment longer, then said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Jo was born. She’s a beautiful girl. I’d really like to meet her one day, if that’s all right. She couldn’t make it out for this?”

“No,” Louis said. Liam had offered for her to be flower girl, and Sophia loved her too, but they had discovered early on that bringing Joanna to England meant paparazzi on every corner. She was spending time with her cousins instead, and Louis knew it was for the best, but he felt her absence like a missing limb. Strange, how quickly it came upon him, that devotion. Three years on and he still can’t get over it.

“All right.” Zayn looked as though he wanted to say something else, but instead he shook his head and slipped back inside. Louis dropped his cigarette, thought about it for a moment, then tapped out another one. He wasn’t feeling up to dancing anymore. 

 

Niall was waiting at his door when Louis got back to the hotel. His tie had disappeared, and his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing an impressive amount of chest hair. He grinned when he saw Louis, tucking away his phone and holding out his arms. 

“You disappeared!” he half-shouted. Louis winced and opened his room door, dragging Niall inside. “I dunno where everyone went, but last I saw, Hazza was chatting up the maid of honour.”

“The maid of honour is married,” Louis said, shrugging off his jacket. 

“Yeah,” Niall said. “Harry was chatting up him, too.” He flopped down on Louis’s bed, kicking his shoes off with a carelessness that would have made Caroline wince. “Where the fuck did you go, anyway? Did you get off with someone?”

“No,” Louis said. He was so fucking tired, the adrenaline of the day fading into utter exhaustion. “Get off my bed.”

Niall obligingly got up and watched as Louis stripped down to his pants. “Come on, where did you go?”

“Rowed with Zayn,” Louis said, lying down and dragging a pillow to cover his face. “Ugh.”

“Shite.” The mattress dipped as Niall sat down again, and a moment later his hand settled on Louis’s knee. “You all right?”

“I’m still mad at him,” Louis said into the pillow. “Fucking furious with him, honestly.” 

“I know.” Niall rubbed his thumb along the underside of Louis’s kneecap, gentle and almost ticklish. “Sometimes I am, too.”

Louis pulled the pillow off and frowned at him. “You’re never.”

Niall shrugged. “Sometimes. Not all the time. It’s just that it was so much fun, you know? And when you look for someone to blame, he’s the easy choice. I try not to, though.”

“That’s because you’re a perfect person and I’m a fucking prick,” Louis said. “Jesus, though, it’s just like – he got to leave on his own terms and decide what he wanted to do. Everything fucking fell apart. It’s such a mess, my _life_ is a mess, and you all have other things now.” Louis’s voice cracked, and he covered his face with his hands, humiliated by the way the words had just spilled out of him. He had been trying so hard not to let anyone know how lost he felt, not when Liam had Sophia, Niall had his songwriting, and Harry had a thousand and one projects he was always working on. Jo was the main focus of his life most days, and she lived on the other side of the bloody world. 

“Oh, Lou. Come here.” Niall pulled Louis to him and tucked his chin on his head. Louis was dismayed to discover that he fit. When did Niall get larger than him? “I’m still here,” he said, throat vibrating against Louis’s ear. “You aren’t alone, I promise you. I hate that you feel that way.”

Niall smelled like his cologne, unchanged from when they had toured together, and a bit like the whiskey they had been drinking. Louis tucked his face into the curve of Niall’s neck. He’d missed this, him and Niall. They’d been the two wild ones at one point, Niall always up for a night out, always up for a bit of fun. Now he was spending so much time in Mullingar that Louis hardly saw him. 

The five of them had been inseparable. They had been brothers, partners in crime, best friends, and then one by one, they had left. Zayn first, to go solo and make his own kind of music. Then Harry to Los Angeles and New York, where he spent his time being photographed with other celebrities and taking artsy photos that he sells for several thousand quid a pop. Liam with his DJing and producing, now married and off to have babies and live happily ever after. And lastly, Niall, who had stuck around London for two years before leaving to return to Ireland, to spend time with his family and work on music for his fellow Irish musicians. 

Louis was the last one left, still living in the flat he’d had since he and Eleanor broke up, still without much to do aside from handle the residual One Direction business that cropped up every now and then. He went to LA often enough to see Jo, but he felt often like he was an intruder in her life, and he hated feeling that way. He had sworn to himself when she was born that she would know her father; he would be there for her, no matter what, but as it turned out, she didn’t need him as much as he thought she would. She had her mother and a whole host of family out there with her, and Louis was just the man that popped back in every month to bring her presents and find out what she had been up to. 

“Fuck,” Louis said into Niall’s skin. “What the fuck am I doing, Nialler?”

Niall rubbed his hand up and down Louis’s back in a steady, soothing rhythm. “Tommo, it isn’t as dire as you make it out to be.”

“ _Dire_ ,” Louis scoffed. “Reading the dictionary again?”

Niall pinched him just above his bum. “Pay attention, I’m being nice to you. You threw the best fucking stag do for Liam’s wedding, and you’ve been keeping track of all the business stuff. You’re not a mess.”

Louis tilted his head back, looking up at Niall. Niall was very handsome, he realized, even when he was clearly a bit drunk and stubbly. The last of his baby fat had disappeared a couple years ago, and though he’d stopped bleaching his hair, the darker colour suited him. Made his eyes seem all that much brighter. 

“Thanks,” he said after a too-long pause. On a whim, he kissed the underside of Niall’s jaw, Niall’s stubble prickling his lips. It was nothing more than he had done back when they lived in each other’s pockets. It was, in fact, much less than some of the things he’d done to Niall, which included biting, groping, and full-on tackling. But Niall inhaled sharply, and his arm tightened around Louis, as a flush spread down his cheeks and neck. 

“Lou,” he said, voice much lower than it had been a moment ago. He turned his head; his mouth was right there, pink and enticing, and Louis didn’t let himself think much more before kissing him properly this time. 

Niall shuddered, fingers digging into Louis’s back, but he kissed back. Louis pushed up into it, shifted until he was straddling Niall’s lap. Niall was hard already, Louis could feel it through his trousers. Louis rocked down slowly, feeling deliciously dirty for being in only his pants while Niall was still nearly fully dressed. Niall’s hands – oh, they were calloused, Louis thought dizzily as they grazed the line of his spine – dropped down to his bum and squeezed. 

“Louis,” Niall breathed against his mouth. “What are you doing?” 

“Come on,” Louis said, stroking his hands down Niall’s throat, watching the flush travel with it. “I’m best man. I deserve to pull a fit guest.”

“Fit, huh?” Niall tucked his thumbs into the waist band of Louis’s pants and started to tug them down. 

“You heard me.” Louis kissed Niall’s jaw again, then started sucking a mark into his pale skin. God, he needed this; he needed the calm that came from a good fuck. Maybe that would let him get out of his head for a bit and would chase this restlessness from beneath his skin. “And unless there’s a gun in your pocket –”

Niall hummed the intro of “No Control” and laughed. “No, mate,” he said. “That’s just me, happy to see you.” His thumb strokes down Louis’s arse, pressing dry against his hole. Louis bites Niall in surprise, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. 

“Yeah,” Louis breathed. “Come on.” 

Between the two of them, they managed to get Niall’s clothes off before Louis wriggled out of his pants, tossing them haphazardly toward his suitcase. Niall grinned from where he had reclined back against the pillows and beckoned Louis over. When Louis knelt on the bed, knees either side of Niall’s legs, Niall dragged Louis in until he was in Niall’s lap again, only this time with nothing between them. Louis sighed at the drag of Niall’s cock against the inside of his thigh and lowered his head to Niall’s. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hi,” Niall said back, beaming. “Want me to suck you off?”

Louis considered it. “I’d rather you fuck me, if that’s all right.” 

“Fuck yeah,” Niall said. “You’ve got lube?”

“Always prepared, me,” Louis said. “Check the bag.”

“Slag,” Niall said fondly. He kissed Louis and then shoved him off to get a condom and lube. When he came back, he knelt between Louis’s legs and urged him to tilt his hips up. 

“You’ve done this before?” Louis thought to ask as Niall slicked up his fingers. 

“Given it a go,” Niall said. “I’m told I’m pretty good at it.” With that, he leans down to mouth at Louis’s thigh and work his middle finger inside him. 

Louis didn’t do this often; it was hard, hooking up with guys, and having a boyfriend was pretty much out of the question. He was mostly interested in girls, anyway, but there was something about getting fucked that was relaxing. Some girls were up for that and that was always fun, too, but this – this was he needed right now. He dragged the pillow back to his face to muffle his groans as Niall slid his index finger in too, breathing out slow and steady to relax into it. 

“There you go,” Niall said softly. He kissed Louis’s rim. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

Louis drifted, hands fisting in the pillow over his face. He knew he was making whiny, desperate noises, and that he probably looked like a proper slag, pushing into Niall’s hand like he was. But Niall was teasing such delicious sensations out of him, sending shivers of pleasure through his whole body. Niall was right; he _was_ good at it. 

“Lou,” Niall said, tugging at the pillow until Louis released it and blinked up at him. He was flushed all down his chest, eyes very bright. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. He reached up, feeling dazed and like he was on the verge of something, balancing right at the edge. Niall’s arm was so soft under his hand. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Ready?” Niall asked. He dropped a kiss to the inside of Louis’s wrist, watching him intently. “Feeling okay?”

“Would you stop fussing and fuck me already?” Louis groused. Niall laughed and eased his hand out of Louis to get the condom on. Louis squirmed, already feeling empty, and then he sucked in a breath as Niall pushed into him in one smooth motion. 

“Shite,” Niall said after a second. He hooked his arms under Louis’s knees, tilting up him up, and _oh_. Louis groaned and rocked into it, the drag of Niall’s cock lighting him up all over. His own dick was so hard it was leaking against his stomach, but it seemed almost distant. Louis wanted Niall to fuck him, to chase that feeling of pleasure and a hint of tension until he couldn’t see. 

“Niall,” he said, and Niall nodded before he started fucking him. 

This, _this_ Louis had missed, the inescapable pressure of a cock inside him, the slap of skin against skin, fingers digging into his hips as Niall thrust into him again and again. He wasn’t bothering to be gentle, and Louis appreciated that faith, because he wanted it hard and fast and Niall was giving that to him. He closed his eyes against the light of the room, and his world narrowed down to the feeling of Niall hard inside him. 

He wasn’t sure how long it was before Niall whispered, “Gonna come,” but it felt both like an eternity and only a few minutes. Louis nodded frantically, arched his back, and felt it as Niall juddered to a climax, breath coming harsh and loud. For a moment, Niall didn’t move, his dick still hard, and Louis blindly reached out for him. Niall came easily and kissed Louis until he started to soften. Then he pulled out, did something with condom Louis honestly wasn’t paying much attention to, and slid down to take Louis in his mouth.

It didn’t take long at all. Louis was so close already, his cock flushed deep red, and Niall’s mouth was so good, so eager, and when he pressed two fingers back inside Louis where he was loose, Louis made a noise that was only charitably called a moan and came. Niall didn’t move away, sucking Louis through it and leaving his fingers where they were, not moving, just a reminder. He mouthed at Louis’s cock until Louis whined and pushed him away, his thighs shaking and his heart going a million miles an hour. 

“Fuck,” Louis said when Niall leaned back and casually wiped a streak of come from his chin. “Why haven’t we ever done that before?”

“Dunno,” Niall said. “Fancy a shower?”

“After you,” Louis said. Niall ducked down to kiss the corner of Louis’s mouth, smiling widely, and Louis closed his eyes again as Niall disappeared into the ensuite. He meant to stay awake, he did; but between the door closing and the shower turning on, he slipped off into sleep. 

 

Louis woke up with Niall plastered to his back, arm thrown over his waist. He was breathing heavily against Louis’s ear, apparently dead to the world. Louis laid there for a minute before carefully slipping out from him. He was disgusting, his thighs tacky with dried lube and his hair was gross from the wedding the night before. He scrounged around for a change of clothes and went to shower. He took his time, scrubbing himself down until his skin is tingling, and when he came out, he was half-expecting Niall to be gone. But he was still there, having shifted into the spot where Louis had been lying. 

What had seemed like a brilliant idea the night before seemed unbelievably stupid now. What had Louis been hoping to accomplish, aside from a moment of peace from his racing thoughts? Niall was his mate, and Louis usually didn’t cross those lines, knowing it was safer that way. Lovers were easier to leave than friends. 

Niall stirred as Louis started shoving things into his suitcase. “All right, mate?” he asked sleepily. “In a hurry?”

“Just got to get packed,” Louis said vaguely. “Check-out’s at noon.”

“Right.” Niall rubbed his face and smiled at him. “Guess I’d better get back to mine.”

“Unless you want housekeeping to steal your clothes,” Louis said. 

“Right.” Niall got out of bed and starting hunting for his clothes. “Do you reckon Liam and Sophia actually made it to bed last night?”

Last Louis had seen, Liam was on the way to being truly wasted. “He probably passed out in her bosom like a babe in the arms,” he said, shaking his head. “Truly pitiful, that.”

“Guess it doesn’t count yet,” Niall said. “Isn’t that how it works? We should go tell him that.” 

Louis laughed despite the low thrum of panic running through him. Niall was acting so _normal_. Was that it, then? Shouldn’t he be glad that Niall wasn’t freaking out? “Yeah, that’d go over well.”

“Ah, well.” Niall finally found his pants and pulled them on. “Any bets on who Harry ended up pulling?”

“I’ll put fifty quid on Sophia’s aunt,” Louis said. “She was right up for it, I reckon.” 

Niall cackled and held up his hand for a high-five. “You’re on. I still think he pulled the maid of honour.”

Louis high-fived him and then froze as Niall leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Bollocks,” he managed after a moment. “Get out of my room, Horan, you’re a disgrace.”

“Whatever,” Niall said cheerfully. He shrugged on his shirt, not bothering to pull on his trousers or jacket, just draping them over his arm instead. “Hope no paps figured out where we’re staying. See you at breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Louis lied. Niall waved as he saw himself out, and Louis sank down onto the edge of the bed, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. He pressed his hand to his neck, right against the pulse point. 

“Well,” he said aloud. “You’ve done it again, Tomlinson. Well done. Wanker.” And with that admonishment, he set about packing up and making a beeline out of his hotel for his car. 

 

Louis was not proud of what he did next, but it seemed like the easiest way to deal with the fact that he’d slept with Niall, one of his _best mates_ : he flew out to California. He took a late flight, wore the most unidentifiable clothes he could scrounge up, and had his car service pick him up at arrivals instead of trying to wade his way through the cabs at departures. 

Bree looked startled to see him at her door, but she let him in and said, “The spare room’s free,” before calling, “Jo, guess who’s come to see you?”

Louis broke into a smile as he heard Jo yell, “Daddy!” A moment later she pelted from the lounge into the front hall, skidded to a halt in front of him as he knelt down to her level, and threw herself into his arms. He swept her up into his arms and squeezed her tight, closing his eyes and feeling as thought something has come loose in his chest. 

“Hey Joanna my girl,” he said. “Have you been a good girl for Mummy while I’ve been away?”

She nodded vigorously, hair tickling his nose. Her hands were locked together behind his neck, tight like she was trying to hold him there. “Promise.”

“Good girl.” He set her down and gently urged her to let go. “Let me have a look at you.” 

Jo struck a pose, her hands on her hips and one foot out. Bree huffed out a laugh and said, “She definitely gets that from you.”

“Hush, I need to see if she’s gotten any taller,” Louis said loftily. Jo giggled. Louis’s face was starting to hurt from grinning. God, she was incredible, so sassy and fierce already even though she was only three and a bit. She looked quite a bit like Daisy and Phoebe at that age, same wispy brown hair and big blue eyes, but she was rowdier than they’d ever been, and had much more questionable fashion sense. He knew without asking that she had picked out her clothes for the day, as she was wearing lime green shorts and a purple shirt with a smiling octopus on it. Bree usually picked nice, photogenic clothes for her, but Jo was like Louis, liked things she could run around in and get dirty. 

“My goodness,” he said, tweaking her toes. “I think you have gotten taller. You’re practically a giant now! You’ll be taller than me soon.”

Jo wrinkled her nose. “Daddy’s silly,” she decided. 

Louis looked up at Bree and said, “She gets _that_ from you.”

Bree lived in a gated community, which had been a huge source of disagreement when Louis had bought the place for her. Three years on, he thought she had adjusted to it, though she complained sometimes that it didn’t feel like a real neighbourhood. It did have its own pool and park, though, and when photographers sometimes staked out Jo’s preschool to get photos of her, any privacy they could get was a good thing. 

Louis took Jo out to the park after grabbing a quick bite of pasta from the fridge. She chattered happily the entire way, some of it actual words and some of it sounding more like energetic nonsense. She didn’t let go of his hand the entire way; Louis felt entirely sympathetic to that. 

At the park, she ran around the playground for a solid half hour before picking up a game of tag with some of the other children there with their own parents. Louis hung back and only nodded at the ones he recognized. He knew a few of them well enough to chat, but he would rather watch Jo right now. His phone, which had been off since he boarded the plane at Heathrow, lay heavy against his thigh. He knew he ought to look at it; he hadn’t told anyone except his mum that he was leaving the country, and people were bound to be wondering where he was. 

It was a ridiculously beautiful day, classic California weather. Times like this, Louis could see why Harry had defected to LA, and why Bree was so reluctant to leave. But at the same time, he felt very far away from the other parents in their joggers and Day-Glo windbreakers. It wasn’t home to him, no matter how many people he loved were here. 

Jo took a tumble from the slide, falling to her knees on the rubber surfacing. Louis was halfway to her before she even let out a noise, and he swept her up as she started to cry. “Oh sweetheart,” he said, stroking her hair. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Daddy,” she wailed. Louis carried her over to a park bench and made a big show of checking her knees for scrapes. She seemed okay, probably crying more from surprise than anything else, and when he kissed her knees, she giggled and poked him in the cheek. 

“All better?” he asked, chucking her under the chin. “You want to play more or you want to go home?”

“Home,” she said, holding up her arms for him to carry her. 

Louis turned so she could clamber on his back and shouted, “Onward, fair maiden!” as she gripped at his hair. It hurt quite a bit, but he’d put up with worse for her. 

“Go, Daddy!” she shrieked, right in his ear. Louis set off at a trot for Bree’s, making sure to bounce her up and down with every step. By the time they got back, she was laughing so hard she had nearly fallen off at least three times. Louis kicked off his shoes in the entryway and took her upstairs, knowing it was about time for her nap, and dumped her into her bed. 

“There you go,” he said, kneeling down beside her. “Gonna take a nap like you’re supposed to so your mum doesn’t shout at me?”

Jo’s eyes were already drooping, so he didn’t really need her fervent nod, but he appreciated it anyway. He kissed her forehead and was about to get up to leave when she reached out to snag his shirt. He covered her tiny hand with his and said, “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Miss you,” she said sleepily. Louis, for a moment, felt as though he couldn’t breathe. 

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said, stroking her hair away from her small, fierce face. But she had already fallen asleep, still wearing her shoes. Louis carefully worked off her sneakers and set them over by the closet before slipping out. 

Bree was down in her office, on a call with what sounded like one of her hair product suppliers. Louis sat on the edge of her desk and waited until she said, “Yes, see you Thursday,” and put the phone down. She turned to look at him, not quite smiling. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, loads,” Louis said. “Sorry I dropped by without telling you.”

“Jo’s glad to see you,” she said. “How long are you staying?”

Louis hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t know.”

“The wedding went that badly?” Bree asked, now starting to smile. “What happened? Did you hit on the mother of the bride or something?”

“Nothing happened,” Louis said. “Can’t I just want to come out her and see you and our daughter?”

“You generally call first,” Bree said. “And I can tell you were in a rush because you didn’t bring her a present. Which I’m glad of, by the way, because I think she’s starting to expect everyone who visits to bring her a gift.”

“Shit, I knew I was forgetting something,” Louis said. “You reckon she’d want a puppy?”

“Don’t you dare.” Bree got up and headed for the door. “Come on, let’s talk.”

Usually when Louis came to visit Jo, Bree spent her time with her own mum or with her sister to give Louis more time. They’d do a few things all together, but it wasn’t like they were particularly close, and they certainly hadn’t spent a lot of time together since they’d actually conceived Jo. Louis followed her out to the lounge, sat down across from her, and waited. 

“It isn’t that I’m not happy you’re here,” Bree said after a moment. “And I know – look, you’re so great with Jo, she loves it when you visit. I just wish you’d let me know you were coming.”

“I didn’t tell anyone except my mum,” Louis said. “It was a bit spur of the moment.”

“And it really was for no reason?” Bree asked shrewdly. This was one of the reasons they hadn’t worked out; Bree was a great girl, but she was like Louis. They both pushed, though in different ways. She was dead good at figuring out what someone didn’t want to talk to and getting it out of them, something that apparently served her well as a stylist since people felt they could trust her, but when it came to Louis, there just weren’t many people he trusted like that. 

“Why didn’t we get married?” he asked her instead of answering the question. 

Bree laughed. “Because it would have been the worst thing we could possibly do.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Bree said. “You’re great, Louis, but we’d have torn each other apart within a year. Do you want Jo to have gone through that?”

Louis was only a baby when his father left, but he remembered the few years before his mum had married his first step-dad. Looking back on it now, he knew that she had been struggling, that she had been unhappy, but she had never done anything to make him feel unwanted. His father was a different story, of course. 

At least Jo would grow up knowing exactly where her parents stood. At least she couldn’t blame herself for them splitting up, and at least they were both happy. Or, well. Bree was. Louis wasn’t sure about himself. 

“All right,” he said. “Fair enough.” He got to his feet. “I’m knackered. Is it okay if I go have a kip?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” Bree said. He saluted her ironically, laughed when she rolled her eyes, and went off to go crash in the spare room. He set his phone on the nightstand, where it might not be such a physical reminder of everything he was avoiding, and fell into dreamless sleep. 

 

Louis spent the next week playing stay-at-home dad while Bree went to work and Jo went off to preschool “to socialize, Louis, we are not getting her a nanny.” He wasn’t much for domestic duties, so he spent a lot of his time watching trashy TV and sending increasingly annoying emails to Liam, who would only respond with incredibly smug selfies of him and Sophia at the beach. The highlight of every day was when he was able to pick Jo up, usually wearing a jacket far too heavy for the weather and a cap pulled low, and take her to the beach or to the mall or the park. 

She was such a joy, stubborn and wilful and insanely curious about everything. She _had_ to stick her fingers into every shell they came across on the beach, and she _had_ to wade out into the water, and she nearly poked at a beached jellyfish before he spotted it and swept her away. At night, when he put her to bed, he read to her from one of her dozens of picture books. Her favourite was _Corduroy_ , apparently because she thought the teddy bear was cute, and so Louis read it three nights running, getting sadder every time at the lonely bear who wasn’t wanted by anyone. 

“Who writes these books?” he asked Bree when he joined her downstairs for a glass of wine. “These are sadistic, I’m telling you.”

“Wait until you reread some of Doctor Seuss’s books,” she said commiseratingly, clinking her glass against his. 

No one seemed to work out Louis was in LA until the weekend, when he was papped with Jo and Bree at the grocery store. It had been a risk, going with them, but he was going a bit stir crazy and he’d been successful at keeping a low profile until then. But as they were walking out to Jo’s car, a few men appeared, calling his name. Louis instinctively picked up Jo and hid her face against his chest, whispering, “Don’t look, sweetie, just look at me.” Bree ducked her head and doubled her walking speed. He hated that she had learned to do that. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Louis said when they had made it out of the parking lot. Jo yelped, “Bad word!” and Louis mimed zipping his lips. 

“It happens even when you aren’t here,” Bree said without looking at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Louis still hadn’t turned on his phone, and he shut it away in the drawer when he got back to resist the temptation to check his messages. Instead, he attempted to help Bree with dinner, successfully managed to colour a picture of Elsa to Jo’s satisfaction, and went for a run to shake off his excess energy. Liam would be proud of him. 

Of course, the next morning, Harry showed up at their door. 

“You’re an arsehole,” he said when Louis came down at Bree’s shout. He was wearing the tiniest shorts Louis had ever seen on an adult man and a loose, flowy shirt that Louis thought was one of Nick Grimshaw’s. He also looked genuinely irritated, brows drawn together as he looked Louis up and down. “You better have dropped your phone in the ocean or sommat.”

“That’s what I should have done,” Louis said. “Come in, we’re eating breakfast.”

Jo tried to climb out of her seat when she saw who it was, yelling, “Uncle Harry!” at the top of her lungs. Harry lost his annoyed expression in favour of a huge, beaming grin as he picked her up and swung her around.

“How is my little bean?” he asked, settling her on his hip. He booped her nose. “Glad to have your dad around?”

“Yep,” she said before she started to wriggle away, trying to get back to her seat. Harry set her down so she could finish her cheerios and beckoned to Louis to come with him outside. 

Harry’s hair was ridiculously long now, as he had never actually gotten it properly cut, only trimmed. It reached his elbows now when it wasn’t pulled up, or back in a plait like it was today. Harry had gotten pretty good at plaiting, Louis noted. Used to be they were proper messes. 

“Right,” Harry said. “Firstly, why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?”

“I told my mum,” Louis said, crossing his arms. “So that’s someone.”

“Your mum doesn’t count. I mean me, Niall, Liam, Ben, Lottie,” Harry said, counting off on his fingers, “Simon, Stan –”

“All right, I get the point,” Louis said. “I just wanted to get away for a bit. Is that such a crime?”

“Secondly,” Harry said, ignoring him completely, “Niall was proper upset that you didn’t say goodbye. He said that the two of you were supposed to hang out and then you just disappeared. We were concerned, Louis.”

“Nothing happened!” Louis said. “God, you’re a couple of mother hens.”

“ _You disappeared_ ,” Harry said fiercely. “It was only when Liam told us you’d emailed him that we thought maybe you’d come here.”

“We?” Louis asked hesitantly. 

“Me and Niall,” Harry said. “Thirdly, what’s wrong with you?” He reached out and poked Louis hard in the chest. “You’ve been weird for ages.”

“I have not,” Louis protested. 

“I have another list,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes at him. “First: you disappeared during Liam’s wedding, and Niall said you said that you rowed with Zayn.”

“I don’t see how that’s weird,” Louis said. 

“Second,” Harry said, “when we went out for Liam’s stag do, you sat in a corner for most of it and didn’t drink as much as me, which you always do. And third, you bunked off to LA for no apparent reason two days after Liam’s wedding and didn’t call anyone. That’s weird, Louis.”

“When are you going to cut your hair?” Louis asked, tugging a strand that had come loose from Harry’s plait. “You could be Rapunzel.”

“I kind of want to see how long it’ll get,” Harry said, then he frowned. “Stop avoiding the question.” 

“I honestly have no idea what the question was,” Louis said. 

“I’m _asking_ why you’re being so weird,” Harry said. “Did something happen other than rowing with Zayn? Did you fight with Niall?”

“What? No!” Louis uncrossed his arms. “Is that what he said?”

“Aha!” Harry said, pointing like he was accusing a witch. “So something did happen with Niall.”

“We didn’t fight, Harry, don’t be ridiculous. Who could fight with Niall?” Louis asked. “He’s a proper ball of sunshine.”

“So what _did_ happen?” Harry asked. And maybe it was the genuine concern in Harry’s tone, or maybe it was that Louis had been trying to forget Niall’s mouth on his for the last week, but Louis cracked under Harry’s scrutiny.

“I fucked up,” he said, rubbing his face so he didn’t have to look at Harry. “Niall and I shagged at Liam’s wedding.”

There was a very strange silence. Louis chanced a look up and saw that Harry was staring at him with huge, round eyes. “What?” Louis demanded. “Don’t act so scandalized.”

“I’m not, I’m – oh my god!” Harry threw his arms around Louis. “That’s fantastic! I knew you fancied him, Lord knows he’s fancied you for ages, is that why you were freaking out?”

“What?” Louis asked Harry’s shoulder. “He fancies me?”

“Didn’t you just say you had sex with him?” Harry pinched Louis’s arm. “Of course he fancies you.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Louis said. “It’s a bad idea. We’re friends, I don’t want to fuck that up.”

“You’re a bit more than friends,” Harry said. “We’re brothers, aren’t we?”

“Ugh, you’re making it creepy.” Louis shoved him off and wrapped his arms around himself. “What do you mean you knew I fancied him?”

Harry shrugged. He was grinning like an absolute madman. Louis was starting to get a little concerned. “I dunno, seemed like you and him spent a lot of time together until last year. You were always going on about him.”

“Because the rest of you were _gone_ ,” Louis said. “Not that Niall is a last resort, but who else was I going to spend time with?”

“You have other friends,” Harry said. He paused, realization dawning on his face. “Oh my god, wait. You slept with Niall and then you _ran away to California_?”

“Ugh.” Louis tried to turn away and go back inside. “I know.”

Harry grabbed his arm, pulling him back. His smile had vanished, replaced instead by the vaguely worried look he wore whenever he and Louis got too close in public. “ _Louis_. You have to fix this.” 

“And do what?” Louis snapped. “Date him? Is that your solution?”

“You’ve got to at least apologize for leaving,” Harry said. “He said, before the wedding, that he was going to stick around London for a while, but when we realized you’d left, he bunked off to Mullingar.” He didn’t even do an impression of Niall’s accent as he said _Mullingar_. Shit, he must be really upset. “He’s barely talked to me. Liam says it’s been the same for him, and he’s been sending him annoying photos just to try to get him to reply.”

“I can’t,” Louis said, looking at his hands. “Harry, after everything that’s happened with the band and – I can’t fuck things up with Niall too.” 

“First of all, you didn’t fuck us up,” Harry said. “And secondly – Lou, haven’t you already, with Niall?”

Louis didn’t know what to say to that. After a moment, Harry pulled him into his arms, resting his chin on Louis’s head, and inch by inch, Louis let himself relax into it. 

 

Harry stayed for lunch, making polite conversation with Bree while Louis brooded and kept an eye on Jo. She didn’t seem to notice his mood, making a big mess out of the spaghetti Louis had carefully cut into bite-sized pieces for her. She did try to feed him a handful of it, but Louis was able to dodge that one by pointing at Harry and saying, “I think your uncle would like that, don’t you?” 

Harry obligingly let Jo dump the fistful of noodles on his plate and shot Louis an amused look before going back to asking Bree for shampoo recommendations. 

Harry left after joining Jo in building an insanely large Tinker Toys tower, kissed Bree’s cheek goodbye, and whacked Louis in the arm as he said, “Call him, at least.”

Jo, who was clinging to Harry’s leg in an attempt to keep him from leaving, said, “Don’t _go_ , Uncle Harry.”

“I’ll be back, little bean,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Promise. As long as I’m in town, I’ll visit you as much as you like. Your mum’s got my number.”

“Come on, Jo,” Bree said, kneeling down to peel her off Harry’s knee. “Let’s go wash up, okay? Let Uncle Harry and your dad say bye.”

Harry and Louis stand in the front hall once they leave, Harry still shoeless. He rubbed one bare foot against his calf and smiled wryly. “So you’ll let me know when you leave, Lou?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

Harry nodded. “What I can’t work out,” he said slowly, “is why, out of everyone at that wedding, you picked Niall.”

“He was at my room when I came up,” Louis said defensively. 

“Still, you and he never fucked before, unless that’s something you’ve been keeping secret,” Harry said. “Was it just that he was convenient? Or was it something else?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Don’t you think I wish it hadn’t been Niall?”

“I know you’d never intentionally hurt him,” Harry said. “That’s why I’m so confused.” He hesitated, then wrapped his arm around Louis’s shoulder in a loose half-hug. “Call him, will you? He deserves that, at the very least.”

“I know,” Louis said. He pinched Harry’s nipple, just to feel a bit more like himself, and grinned when Harry squawked indignantly. “Just so you know, if you don’t come back to play footie with Jo, she’ll cry, so you better keep your promise.”

“I swear,” Harry said solemnly, holding up his pinky. Louis snorted and hooked his pinky around Harry’s. “Right, I’m off. Kiss Jo for me.”

Louis waved him off, laughing when Harry nearly fell over trying to get his shoes back on, and closed the door behind him before going out to the garden again. The question of _why Niall_ had been on his mind since he’d arrived in California. He had been going over it in his head every night before he went to sleep, thinking of that moment where he could have played it off, pretended he was too drunk to do anything, but he had decided, hadn’t he, to cross the line. He’d always been so careful not to. He loved Niall, always had, but there were some things you just didn’t mess around with, and that was one of them. Niall – he deserved the world, and Louis couldn’t give that to him. 

So the question wasn’t really _why Niall_ , he reflect, so much as _why now?_ Why did he turn into Niall that night, and why did he keep thinking about him now when he’d flown across the world to stop doing that? He couldn’t be with Niall; he just couldn’t. 

Louis had fucked up a lot of things in his life. A Levels, his various relationships, his friendship with Harry for a while, the whole way he’d gone about trying to help out Bree in the early days, when she just wanted to live her life. They always joked about how he’d corrupted Liam, but sometimes he felt that keenly, knowing that he had changed him in ways seventeen year-old Liam wouldn’t have been pleased about. And then there was Zayn, who he still fought with because he couldn’t fucking _let go_. He couldn’t add Niall to that list. 

He stood out in the back garden long enough that Bree came looking for him. She took a look at his face, then carefully folded him into a hug, squeezing him around the waist before letting go and asking, “You need a beer or anything?”

“No,” Louis said. “I ought to do this sober.”

His phone, when he turned it on, was flooded with messages, all of which he ignored in favour of thumbing open his contacts to Niall’s name. He sat on the edge of his bed, reminded himself that he had known Niall for going on nine years now, and made himself call. 

It rang and rang, enough that Louis thought he should hang up. Just as he was about to chicken out, Niall picked up, trailing off on a laugh as he said, “Hello?”

Louis could hear people in the background, maybe some music. “Are you out, Niall?” he said, mouth getting ahead of him. “Without me?”

“Louis?” Niall abruptly sounded much more serious. “Hang on, let me get outside.”

Louis waited until he heard the music grow muffled to say, “You out with your mates, then?”

“Yeah, some of the LIC is around,” Niall said. “They came out for my birthday.”

“Your birthday isn’t for another week,” Louis said. 

“Ah, you remember that, then?” Niall asked lightly, but Louis winced. “We’re doing it proper, I’m going to be officially late twenties.”

“Nah,” Louis said, “you aren’t in your late twenties until a minute before you turn thirty.”

“Says the man who’s been celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday for the last three years.” Niall didn’t say anything for a while, and Louis waited, listening to the distant thump of music in the background. “So Hazza found you, huh?”

“That isn’t – all right, yes, that is why I’m calling,” Louis said. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Niall.”

“About what?” Niall asked, a slight edge to his tone. He so rarely got angry that it always took Louis a moment to recognize it when he was pissed about something, but he knew it now. “Shagging me, leaving me, or not calling me? Pick one.”

“Leaving,” Louis said immediately. “Definitely leaving.”

“So why did you?” 

It was a fair question. Louis breathed out slowly and admitted, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I can’t just – you’re one of my best mates. And that wasn’t, like. That wasn’t just hooking up because it was convenient, was it?”

“No,” Niall said. “It wasn’t.”

“Right,” Louis said. “We can’t pretend that it was, you know? There’s too much there. And Christ, Niall, you know what I am.”

“I know that you’re loyal,” Niall said, “and I know that you’re proper domestic even though you pretend not to be. And you make me laugh, and you always like my cooking and you even try to clean up even though you get bored halfway through. Louis. I knew all that when I slept with you.”

“Say it a little louder, why don’t you,” Louis muttered. 

“Sure,” Niall said. “I’m not the one who cares, am I?”

It wasn’t that Louis was ashamed of being bi, at least not anymore. Used to be he did get that shiver of disgust at himself whenever he realized he was looking a guy. Used to be he was scared at any slight hint that someone guessed. He kept that part of him locked down for years, hidden under layers of defensive posturing and defiant refusal to fit any mould people cast him in. 

He had accepted himself around age eighteen, and maybe if his life had gone differently he would have had someone throw him an elaborate IT’S GREAT TO BE BI party. But with the press on his heels, the fans already giving his girlfriends shit for existing, there were some things he wanted to keep to himself. And he wanted to keep everyone he loved – and himself – safe. Louis knew the lads thought it was shame that made him keep Harry at arm’s length once the rumours about them reached their height, but it wasn’t that, so much. It was fear. 

That much hadn’t changed. He knew better than to pay much attention to the way people talked about him, but the idea of his sexuality being made into a punchline on Graham Norton or SNL, the idea of people taking potshots at Eleanor or Bree or Harry or the lads just because they could – it made him want to punch something. 

And god, Niall didn’t deserve that. Out of all of them, he’d managed to avoid the constant relationship speculation the best, mostly laughing off the constant articles that came out every time he stood so much as within two feet of an eligible girl. Out of all of them, Niall was the one who had emerged from the whole experience that was One Direction the least changed, the most unscathed. Not even a bit of ink on his skin to mark the passage of time. And he’d earned that by being himself, all the damn time. 

“That isn’t why,” Louis said. “I don’t know what I’m doing, with you. How do you do any of this with someone you already know so well?”

“You give it your best try,” Niall said. “But you can only do that if you’re actually, you know. Around.”

“I know.” Louis rubbed his face and sighed. “How about I come over for your birthday? Is that all right?”

“It would be a start,” Niall said. “I expect you to treat me to dinner and show me every single picture of Jo you’ve taken over the last week.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too nice for your own good?” Louis asked. 

“You, frequently,” Niall said. “So?”

“So I’ll see you at your birthday,” Louis said. He bit his lip, hard enough that he could taste blood. “I really don’t regret the sex, Niall.”

“Course not,” Niall said. “I bloody blew your mind, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Louis said. “You really did.”

“Knew it.” Niall made a kissy noise down the line. “Hug Jo for me.” 

They exchanged their goodbyes and hung up. Louis sat with his phone in his lap for a few minutes, breathing slow and steady until he felt like he could stand again. When he went downstairs, Bree looked up from the sofa and took one look at his face before saying, “You’re going back, aren’t you.”

“Not for a few days,” he said, sitting down next to her. “I don’t have to be there until the weekend.”

“Okay.” Bree sighed and leaned back. “Jo’s going to be heartbroken.”

“Don’t do that,” Louis said. 

“I’m stating a fact. You’re the one who decided to use your daughter as a getaway,” Bree said. “Look, I’m glad you’re here, and Jo was thrilled to see you, but you can’t do that, do you understand me? You can’t just pop in and out whenever you’re avoiding something, you can’t do that to her.”

Louis nodded. “I know. I know, fuck.” He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, then said, “Be honest with me. Am I a shitty father?”

“No,” Bree said without even pausing to think about it. “No, and you know why? Because you fucking _try_. It’s more than my dad did. More than yours did, too. And you come as often as you can and every time Jo is so excited to see you. That’s how I know you’re a good dad.”

He looked at her, taking in her loose braid, the casual elegance of her grey blouse and dark blue jeans. She was really something. “I really wish we could have worked,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “But it isn’t so bad this way, is it?” 

 

The night before he left for Ireland, Jo crept into his room after he’d put her to bed and climbed up to join him. She had been crying, he noticed, her eyes red and her face still wet. He sat up and pulled her to his chest, stroking her damp hair. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked her. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t go, Daddy.”

“I don’t live here, sweetheart,” he told her. “If I could take you with me, you know I would.”

Jo frowned against his collar and looked up at him. “Why?”

“Why can’t I take you?” Jo nodded. “Well, your mum would miss you, wouldn’t she?”

Jo poked out her lower lip, and Louis crumbled. He really was such a pushover for her. “Why don’t I have a chat with your mum and we’ll see what we can do about you visiting me, hmm?” he said. He took the edge of his sheet to wipe her face clean. “You think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah,” she said, snuggling down beneath his duvet, which wasn’t what he’d meant, but oh well. He reached over to switch off his light and tugged her up against his side. He missed when she was small enough to sleep on his chest, so tiny and precious, but as much as he’d loved her then, he felt as though he loved her more and more with every day as she grew into the person she would become. 

Perhaps he wasn’t such a fuck-up, then, if he’d made something this wonderful. Jo was probably the greatest thing he’d ever done, and that had been by accident. Maybe he ought to read something into that. Have a little faith that things could work out. 

It was worth a thought, anyway. 

 

Jo didn’t cry when Louis left in the morning, too tired to do much other than blink sleepily at him, but she did cling to his neck until he gently pried her off. Bree took her to bed then before coming down with Louis to wait for the car service. She was still half-asleep herself, wearing a robe over her pyjamas, and Louis felt bad bringing it up now, but he wanted to do it in person. 

“So I was wondering,” he said, shifting from foot to foot, “how do you fancy coming out to England for the holidays this year?”

Bree stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I just – Jo ought to spend more time there. Maybe you could come for a month.”

“I can’t take that much time off work,” Bree said. 

“Then I’ll fly back with her so you can go home earlier,” Louis said. “Bring your mum, a friend, whatever. I’ll pay for it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Bree said. “I can pay for myself. But you always said that you didn’t want Jo to have to deal with the press over there.”

“I can talk to some people,” Louis said. “I just – I don’t want to miss out on things. I don’t want her to feel like I’m just this guy.” 

Bree worried at her lip before nodding. “Yeah. I understand that.” She reached out to hug Louis and said, “This isn’t me saying yes. But I think it would be nice for her, so I’ll start looking into it.” 

“I appreciate that.” They both turned as a car horn disturbed the early morning stillness. “I guess that’s for me.”

“Have a safe flight, and good luck,” Bree said. She squeezed his shoulder and gave him a small smile. He waved and slipped out the door. To his surprise, he felt a bit lighter, like maybe he had done something right. 

 

Louis slept the whole way to Ireland after having a couple of drinks in first class to settle his nerves. By the time he landed, his buzz had worn off, and he was feeling the effects of sitting in one position for so long. He cracked his back, grabbed his bags, and went to meet whichever of Niall’s cousins had been dispatched to pick him up. 

“Hey,” Willie said when Louis found him. “This is all you got?”

“What, you expected me to have servants bearing my luggage?” Louis asked, giving him the strap of his duffle. 

“You’re a bloody popstar, I expected you to have a private jet,” Willie said. “Come on, Niall’s been buzzing. We’re going out tonight.”

“Didn’t you go out last night?” Louis asked. 

“Every night, mate,” Willie said cheerfully. Louis laughed, thinking that was just classic. 

Niall was apparently already at the pub by the time Louis swung by his flat to drop off his stuff. He had caved a few years ago and gotten his own place in Mullingar, acknowledging that it was a bit weird to still be living at his dad’s when he brought people around. It looked just like Niall, everything thought-out and planned, neat as a pin. Louis dumped his bag by the couch, went into the loo to change, and re-joined Willie outside. 

“Let’s go get wankered,” he said. Willie laughed and high-fived him. 

Niall was in the middle of a huge group of people at the pub, laughing uproariously at something Laura had said, but he saw Louis the moment he walked in. He climbed up over Bressie and Eoghan, letting himself down with only a slight wince before making a beeline for Louis. 

“You’re here!” he said loudly, seizing him in a hug. “It’s been _ages_.”

“It’s been like two weeks,” said Louis, but he hugged Niall back. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?”

“Yep!” Niall said. “You’ve got to catch up, haven’t you?”

“Truer words,” Louis said, and he indulged himself by squeezing Niall’s bum cheekily before heading over to the bar. 

Three pints and two shots later, Louis was singing along loudly to the impromptu cover of “Wonderwall,” prompted by Bressie breaking out a guitar and taking requests. Niall was half on Louis’ leg, half draped over his mate Samantha, flushed and vibrant. This was Niall in his element, surrounded by friends, food, booze, and music. He was at his best like this, and Louis had missed it so much. 

He pressed his face into Niall’s shoulder, biting him lightly, and laughing when Niall nearly fell over twisting to look at him. “I am the _man of the hour_ ,” Niall said indignantly, poking Louis in the side. “It is my _birthday_.”

Louis had to check his phone, but Niall was right, it was half three, which meant that Niall was officially twenty-six. “You sure are,” he said, pinching Niall’s cheek. “Practically a pensioner, you are.”

“Will you still need me, will you still feed me,” Niall sang, warbling, and Bressie caught the tail end of it in time to join in on, “when I’m sixty-four!”

“I don’t feed you now,” Louis said as everyone cheered and clinked glasses, “but I’ll probably always need you.”

Niall smiled, reaching out to cup Louis’s cheek. “Lou,” he said, “that’s dead romantic, that is,” and in front of everyone, he leaned over to kiss him full on the mouth. Someone wolf-whistled at them, but Louis found that he didn’t care. They were among friends; it was Niall’s birthday; and Louis was going to see this through. 

They were too pissed to do much more than snog sloppily when they eventually made it back to Niall’s flat, but they did split Niall’s bed, legs tangled together and Niall drooling messily against Louis’s shoulder. Niall was lucky Louis was very fond of him; he’d have twatted anyone else for that. 

Louis woke in the morning to the sound of the kettle whistling and an empty bed. He pulled on a pair of trackies, drank the glass of water and a paracetamol helpfully left at the bedside, and went out to investigate. He found Niall at the stove, wearing only an apron and pants, a sizzling pan in front of him. Louis took it upon himself to make the tea, digging out two mugs and a box of Yorkshire that was still in the plastic wrapping. 

“You bought tea for me,” he said. 

“You came here for my birthday,” Niall said without turning around. “Hurry up, kettle’s boiling.” 

They ate breakfast – proper hangover food of bacon, eggs, beans, and toast – in companionable silence, Niall’s bare foot tucked up against Louis’s ankle. Louis kept sneaking glances at Niall over the rim of his mug, thinking about that moment where Niall had kissed him like he didn’t care who was around. He wasn’t deserving of that, not after what he had done, but that was Niall’s decision, he supposed. He reached over and tapped Niall’s wrist gently. 

“What is it?” Niall asked. He turned his hand over and caught Louis’s fingers in his. “Brekkie okay?”

“It’s amazing, of course it is,” Louis said. “I just wanted to say happy birthday.”

Niall broke into a wide, beaming grin, and pushed up to lean across the table. He kissed Louis, mouth tasting of grease and tea, and when he pulled away, Louis made a soft noise of protest. “Thanks,” Niall said. “You taking me out?”

“If that’s all right,” Louis said. “Like you said. Give it my best try.”

“I’d better have my bloody socks rocked off,” Niall said. “After what you did.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis said. “How long are you going to hold that over me for?”

“Just a bit longer,” Niall said. “You got here in the end, didn’t you?” 

They spend most of the day napping and puttering around the flat. Louis found a steak restaurant that looked nice and had a reservation open, and then he called Willie to say that they should take Niall out for more drinks after. Niall came into the office where Louis was sitting and leaned against the back of his chair as he finished chatting. He was playing with the hair at the base of Louis’s head when he hung up, seeming lost in thought. 

“What is it?” Louis asked, tilting his head back. 

“Do you remember going to Vegas for my twenty-second?” Niall asked him. He dropped a kiss to Louis’s forehead. “We closed down the whole fucking city.”

“Too right we did.” Louis reached back and tugged Niall toward him. “Ever done a Spiderman kiss?”

“May as well try,” Niall said before kissing him. It was a bit uncomfortable, perhaps because of the angle, and they broke off laughing after a moment. Niall circled around to straddle Louis’s hips – “Oof,” Louis complained – and kissed him properly. 

“This is mad,” Louis said between kisses. “Isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Niall said. He rucked up Louis’s shirt to stroke his fingers across his ribs. “At some point, though, you gotta go with what works. And we work, I think.”

“Yeah,” Louis said after a moment, and he tugged Niall down to him for a kiss. 

 

They didn’t even make it to dessert before they rushed out of dinner, Niall’s hand tight on Louis’s wrist as he tugged him toward the valet. “Bloody tease,” he was muttering, fond, “sucking on your fork like a tart.”

“I _am_ a tart,” Louis said, twisting so he could smack Niall’s bum. Niall shook his head, laughing, and handed his validation over. Louis burrowed into him while they stood there, hugging him close to breathe in his smell. “I told Willie we were going out for drinks with them.”

“He’ll understand if we cancel,” Niall said. “I have more important things in mind.”

Louis started singing “Birthday Sex” under his breath. He hadn’t even had much to drink, he just felt so buoyant and delighted with life. He’d never thought of himself as uptight person, but he was realizing that he had kept an awful lot of things locked up tight, and it was a relief to start to let them go, one by one. 

“Ah, thank Christ,” Niall said when the car arrived. “Get in, you lump.”

Louis slid into the passenger seat and spread his legs wide, palming at his cock through his trousers. He’d been hard since Niall came out of the bedroom wearing sinfully tight jeans and a loose shirt left unbuttoned enough to show his chest hair, because apparently that was a thing for him. Niall caught him at it and flushed red, muttering something very rude under his breath as he started the car. 

“Not my fault you look good enough to eat,” Louis said. His voice came out husky. “Wanna blow you.” 

Niall swallowed visibly. “Yeah,” he said, “all right.”

Back at the flat, Niall stripped off his clothes so quickly Louis was mildly concerned he’d have an accident. He tossed his own clothes in the direction of the closet before pinning Niall to the bed and kissing him soundly. Niall grabbed at Louis’s bum – that seemed to be a thing with him – and rocked up against him, their cocks nudging up against each other. 

“Fuck,” Louis groaned into Niall’s mouth. He pressed Niall back against the pillows, said, “I promised,” and then slid down between Niall’s thighs. Niall wasn’t particularly hairy on his legs for whatever reason – maybe all of it was on his chest – and it was so light blond as to be barely noticeable anyway. It made a pretty picture, his hard cock against almost angelic-looking blond curls. He half-wanted to take a picture. 

“Oi,” Niall said, sounding strained. “Are you just gonna look or are you gonna put it in your mouth?”

“Bossy,” Louis remarked. He opened his mouth and sucked Niall in, wrapping his right hand around the base. Louis really liked giving head, whether to girls or guys, revelled in the power of reducing someone to jelly with the power of his mouth. He hadn’t sucked a cock for a while, though, and he had to take a few breaks to rest his jaw and catch his breath. Each time, he snuck a look up at Niall to see him red-faced, stomach tensed, nearly trembling with the effort of not fucking up into him. 

Louis wiped his mouth and said, “Are you up for fucking me tonight?” He ran a finger down Niall’s dick, grinning when Niall moaned and bucked his hips. “Because I’m thinking I’d like to ride you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Niall said to the ceiling. 

“Is that a yes?” Louis asked. He traced his finger around the head of Niall’s cock, across the slit, and Niall swore at him before saying, “Yes it’s a fucking yes, get a fucking condom and get on me already.”

So Louis fished a condom out of the bedside table, fingered himself open with the lube he found stashed in there too, making sure Niall got a good view, and then he lowered himself onto Niall’s cock slowly, clean hand braced on Niall’s chest for balance. Niall’s hands were clenched in the sheets so hard that his knuckles were going white. 

“Fuck,” Louis groaned when Niall bottomed out inside him. Niall’s mouth was open in a soundless _o_ as he stared up at Louis with a rapturous expression. “Dammit, Nialler, we should be doing this _every day_.”

“No disagreement from me,” Niall croaked. “Lou, could you –”

Louis rocked his hips, shaking when he managed to hit his prostate. His cock jumped at that, and he wrapped a hand around himself to ease some of the pressure. “Yeah?”

“Oh my god, _Louis_ ,” Niall said. “It’s me fucking birthday.”

Louis grinned down at him. “Fine, since you asked so nicely and all.” He took a breath, hoping his thighs were still up to this, and rose up on his knees before sliding back down. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head. 

It was a slow, unsteady fuck, Louis trembling too much from the feeling of Niall’s cock to have much coordination. Niall, for his part, seemed content to let Louis do the work, only resting his hands lightly on Louis’s hips without trying to move him. It stretched out like a summer’s day, endless and warm and languid. Louis wanted to stay like this forever, Niall hard inside him, the only sounds the slick slide of Niall’s cock and the soft sounds of their breathing. 

When Louis came, it was a surprise even to him. He tensed up, thighs tightening on Niall’s hips, stroking himself through his orgasm with his head tilted back. Every minute shift reminded him of Niall still inside him, sparking afterimages of pleasure. He tilted forward towards Niall, said, “Your turn,” in a voice so shaky it hardly sounded like him, and Niall nodded, eyes squeezed tightly closed, and came. 

“Happy birthday?” Louis asked sometime later. He was itching for a cigarette, but Niall didn’t like people smoking inside and he didn’t feel up for stepping out. Niall, who was sprawled out completely naked with his arm over his face, gave him a thumbs up. 

“That’s all I get?” Louis asked, poking him in the arm. “I fly all the way to Ireland just to have sex with you and that’s all you have for me?”

“Wasn’t _just_ , was it?” Niall asked. 

Louis shifted so he was curled up against Niall’s side. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t.” 

Niall nodded and said, “Good.”

 

Niall came back to London with Louis. 

He didn’t make a big fuss about it, just said, “I have some gigs lined up,” but Louis knew that it was a big deal. Niall had always talked about going back to Mullingar after the band was done, and he was aware that he was at least part of the reason Niall was defecting to London. He thanked him by actually tidying up his clothes and clearing out space in his closet for Niall. They split time between their two London flats, depending on which one was closest, and met up with Niall’s mates and, eventually, the new Mr. and Mrs. Payne in the evenings. 

Louis did some work with a few children’s charities in the fall, did some song-writing for a new singer out of Liverpool in November, and then he looked up and it was December, and he and Niall were still whatever they were. Boyfriends maybe, though neither of them had actually said that. 

“What are you doing for the holidays?” he asked Niall one night as they were getting ready for bed. Niall had an early morning; Louis felt a bit like an old married couple. “Any plans?”

“Well, I was thinking I’d at least stick around for your birthday,” Niall said. “Why?”

“Jo and Bree are coming out for Christmas, and Jo’s gonna be staying with me for about a month,” Louis said. 

“I know,” Niall said. “You’ve only mentioned as much about a hundred times.”

“I’m trying to ask if you want to celebrate Christmas with us,” Louis said, poking Niall in the stomach. “If Bobby and Maura are expecting you, it’s okay, but it might be nice, don’t you think? Maybe we could get all the lads together, have a little party.”

“I’d like that,” Niall said. He kissed Louis and tucked his hand into the waistband of his joggers. “Consider inviting Zayn, would you?”

“Niall –”

“It’s been four years,” Niall said. “I think you’ve punished him enough.” 

“I wasn’t –” Niall gave him a very unimpressed look, and Louis subsided. “Yeah, all right,” he said. “But only because you asked.”

“I knew you loved me,” Niall said cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Louis said. “You’re lucky I do.” 

So the week before Christmas, Niall and Louis had the lads, Sophia, Zayn and his girlfriend, half the LIC, a few of Louis’s mates, and for some reason Nick Grimshaw and Daisy Lowe over for a dinner and gift exchange. Jo was, of course, the star of the show, being spoiled by everyone as they came to coo over her darling Christmas dress – “I picked it out,” Louis said proudly – and her sparkly red shoes. Jo preened under the attention, and insisted on getting piggyback rides from everyone. She tugged on Zayn’s hair, too, which Louis pretended not to find hilarious. 

Bree inexplicably hit it off with Daisy Lowe, the two of them gossiping in a corner over wine while the rest of them chatted and passed around appetizers from Waitrose since he and Niall couldn’t be bothered to cook for this many people. Niall, who’d had several glasses of mead, leaned heavily against Louis’s side for much of the night, only moving when Jo came over to demand hugs and kisses from her Uncle Niall. 

“Yeah, that’s not going to get confusing in a few years,” Liam said. He was grinning at them, smug as anything. “Why is Daddy married to Uncle Niall, Mummy?”

“Well,” Louis said, “when a man and a man love each other very much –”

Liam doubled over with laughter, and Louis grabbed him in a headlock to disguise the mild shock and pleasure he felt at Liam’s assumption that this would last. He had been trying not to think that far ahead, not wanting to in over his head. But he knew Niall, didn’t he, and they had gone into this together. So maybe it wasn’t too big to assume. 

Once Bree took Jo to bed in the spare room, the guests began to trickle out one by one, until it was just the five former members of One Direction sitting around the coffee table. The girls were off in the bedroom having a “chat,” but Louis knew full well that this had probably been orchestrated. Judging from the look on Liam’s face, he had been in on it too. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” Zayn said awkwardly when the conversation fell into a lull. He tried a smile; it wasn’t quite successful. “It was nice.”

“I’m glad you came,” Louis said, and he was surprised to find that he meant it. “It’s about time to let the past be the past.”

Zayn bit his lip, then lunged from his spot on the floor to wrap Louis in a hug. Louis was too startled to react for a moment, and then body memory kicked in, and he hugged Zayn back. He smelled just the same, like hair product and smoke, and Louis remembered, seemingly for the first time, that Zayn had been one of his best friends. He shouldn’t treat them so lightly. 

“Don’t get soppy about it,” Louis said to disguise the huskiness of his voice when Zayn pulled away. He looked around and saw Harry wiping at his face. “Oh my god, Harold, are you _crying_?”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Niall said, resting his hand on Louis’s ankle. He also looked suspiciously bright-eyed.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Louis said. “Not you too.”

“Don’t be such a tosser,” Harry said thickly. “I’m just so _happy_.” 

Louis couldn’t let that stand. He tackled Harry into the couch, digging his fingers into Harry’s sides until he was shrieking with laughter, and then he felt someone land on top of him, and then all five of them were in a pile, yelling and shoving and laughing so hard Louis thought his sides might split. 

“Honestly,” came Sophia’s voice, “aren’t you lads too old for this now?”

“Never!” Louis shouted from where Liam had managed to sit on his head. 

“You heard him,” Liam said cheerfully. “ _I won’t act my age_ –”

“Oh no,” Louis said, and he turned his head with difficulty to bite Liam’s thigh. Liam leapt off him with a yelp. 

It was past two in the morning by the time everyone left, Harry clinging to Niall for so long Louis had to say, “Hands off, Styles, he’s mine.” Niall went adorably pink, but nodded and said, “He’s right, you know.”

Zayn hugged Louis again before leaving, telling him, “It was so nice to meet Jo. She’s a great girl,” and Louis managed to say, “Yeah, she is,” without any attempt at starting a fight. Personal growth. Maybe it was about time. 

Liam and Sophia were the last to leave, after helping them pick up the mess of the flat, and Liam squeezed Louis tight before telling him, “You need anything, mate, you have my number.” Louis clapped him on the shoulder, told him to go enjoy his first Christmas as a married man, and sagged against the door when it closed behind them. 

“Alone at last,” he told Niall.

“Jo and Bree are only in the next room,” Niall pointed out, but he was grinning. “Smashing party, wasn’t it?”

“Time was they’d have all been too pissed to go home,” Louis said. “What happened?”

“We got older,” Niall said. “And that’s not a bad thing.” He pushed Louis against the door and kissed him slowly, working his leg between Louis’s thighs. “Some things get better with time.”

“Like wine,” Louis said. 

“And cheese,” Niall said. “And you.”

Louis wrinkled his nose. “Speaking of cheese.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Niall rocked up against him and smiled. “You love it.”

“I love _you_ ,” Louis corrected, and then he paused. It was the first time he had said it properly since they had started this, and it felt – it felt natural. It felt _good_. “I love you,” he said again, and he realized he was grinning. 

“Well, of course you do,” Niall said. “Come on, if we want to have sex we have to do it now so we can clean up in case Jo comes into our room tomorrow.”

Our room, Louis noticed. He kissed Niall again, took his hand, and led the way. Niall was laughing when Louis kicked the bedroom door behind them, bright and loud, and Louis had to taste his smile, had to chase the laughter from his lips until they were both shaking with it. Niall pulled back after a moment to say, “Oh, I love you too, by the way.”

“I know,” Louis said, grinning. 

“Cheeky,” Niall said approvingly. He ran his fingers up Louis’s side, startling a shiver from him. “And I love Jo, and I’m really honoured you asked me to spend Christmas with you.” 

“No matter what else,” Louis said, “you’re one of my best mates. So of course.”

“Yeah,” Niall said. “Best mates, and a bit more.” He pinched Louis’s nipple through his shirt. “All right, bed now.”

And they fell, laughing, into the bed together. 

 

In the morning, Louis woke to Jo climbing up on the bed and worming her way between them. He was very grateful that Niall had insisted they shower and put on clothes before they went to sleep, especially as she poked him in the face and said, “Why is Uncle Niall here?”

“Because I love your dad,” Niall said without opening his eyes. “Where’s your mum?”

“Bed,” Jo said, sounding as though this were a personal affront. She poked Louis again. “Daddy.”

“All right, love,” Louis said, pushing himself upright and tugging her into his lap. “Are you hungry?”

When she nodded, Louis poked Niall in the cheek himself. Jo giggled and joined him in poking Niall until he groaned and pushed their hands away. 

“What?” he asked, cracking his eyes open. 

“Jo’s hungry,” Louis said. “Are you gonna make us brekkie?”

“I suppose you can’t be trusted,” Niall said. “Go put a kettle on and I’ll be out.” 

So Louis carried Jo out to the kitchen, set a kettle to boil, and settled down to play a hand clapping game with her while Niall shambled around like a zombie getting things out of the fridge. By the time Bree made it out, yawning and rubbing her face, Louis had three cups of tea brewing and Niall had started making omelettes. 

“This is nice,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table. Jo had moved on to colouring the book of Disney princess sheets Louis had bought her. So far she had managed not to colour the floor, but he wasn’t optimistic about that staying the case. “Isn’t it?”

Niall looked over his shoulder to Louis and gave him a small smile. Louis caught Jo’s hand just before she slipped off the edge of her book with her black marker and smiled back. “Yeah,” he said. “Proper lovely.” 

This was his life now, he realized, a boyfriend and a daughter and an ex-something that was more like a best mate these days. He used to define himself by being an older brother, then by being one of One Direction, and as time had gone on, both of those definitions had grown less relevant. But this was who he was, at the end of it. Louis Tomlinson, former member of One Direction, father of Joanna, boyfriend of Niall, Doncaster Rovers fan, and passionate lover of Yorkshire Gold. That was enough. 

“Come to the table, Lou,” Niall said, picking up the pan. Louis picked up Jo, carried her to the table, and settled in. Niall dropped a kiss on his temple as he leaned in to drop a bit of omelette on his plate, and Louis smiled at him. It was enough, he decided. It was better than enough; it was everything.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [tumblr](http://officerbobrovsky.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/hkafterdark/) if you're so inclined.


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